


My Hand’s a Five Leaf Clover

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Being Walked In On, Felix Catches Sylvain Jerking It, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Or not, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Watching, Roommates, what happens next will shock you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: How in the world is Sylvain supposed to focus on a documentary when Felix is right there, being irresistible?
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 135





	My Hand’s a Five Leaf Clover

Was this a date?

Sylvain shook his head, tried to physically shake the question out of his brain because it was so ridiculous. This—watching some documentary about who-knows-what with his roommate, sitting on the couch with a meter between them—was just a normal Friday night. Having dinner together beforehand didn’t make it a date, especially since it was just frozen pizza with the cheese charred black by their flaky toaster oven. 

Actually, Sylvain couldn’t remember his last date. Might have been Hilda—he shuddered at the memory. Too high maintenance to make those giant tits worth it. They’d broken up on Valentine’s Day in a blaze of pink hair and high drama, which meant it had been six months. 

Six months without a date, six months without getting his dick wet, six months of chasing the perfect porn to scratch his itch, an itch that had shifted from watching hot chicks get railed to watching dudes sword fight with their cocks before fucking in every position known to man. Six months of picturing one face as he fucked his hand (or, on special occasions, fucked himself with his fingers). Six months of sitting across from Felix Hugo Fraldarius and wanting desperately to kiss him.

Yeah, Sylvain was fucked. 

Everything about the situation screamed  _ danger, _ because Felix wasn’t just his roommate but his best friend, too. The one person who’d stuck with him through every breakup, pregnancy scare, and estranged husband’s death threat (there had only been one but that was enough for a lifetime). 

And how did Sylvain thank Felix? By imagining him in every pornographic video he watched, getting rawed or doing the rawing, sometimes both in one go. Sometimes both at the same time. 

Fuck. Sylvain squirmed in his seat. He was too horny for sustainable farming or whatever this documentary was touting. 

“Ugh.” Felix’s grunt made Sylvain jump. the TV flickered off. “I can’t focus on this right now.”

“Why are we watching it anyway?” wondered Sylvain. He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but Felix glared at him. 

“Ashe and Dedue were raving about it, I don’t know.” Still sneering, he stood up and turned immediately toward the hall. “I’m going to bed.”

And Felix was gone without so much as a glance behind him. 

Sylvain sat there for a full five minutes, wondering what had just happened. Sure enough, Felix brushed his teeth, then slammed his door shut. 

Was it something Sylvain had said? Could Felix read his thoughts? No one knew Sylvain better, and maybe Felix’s name had slipped past his lips one or twenty times while jerking off—definitely when Sylvain had tried that prostate massager he’d ordered. He’d gotten so loud that night he hadn’t touched it since. 

The toy sounded pretty damn good tonight, but he couldn’t. Felix woke up at the creak of a door; he’d definitely hear Sylvain screaming. 

His cock hadn’t softened much at all since Felix left the room. Sylvain could still picture him on the other side of the couch in his turtleneck and jeans. Only Felix wore jeans around the house—he hadn’t even gone anywhere today! And why were they so unfairly tight? The sight of that bony little ass of his, almost hanging out because he had to size up his pants to accommodate his thighs… 

Sylvain reached for his sweats without thinking, stopping just shy of his protruding cock. It was wrong; he needed to go to his room to masturbate, but he could almost smell Felix out here—his aftershave, his deodorant, his skin…

With a deep breath, Sylvain ran his palm over himself. A shudder of relief overtook him. What would Felix say if he saw Sylvain now? Would he scream at him, call him a pervert, and move out? Sylvain shook his head. That fantasy sucked.

No. Felix would gasp, soft and sweet.  _ Sylvain, _ he'd say,  _ I didn’t know you wanted me. _

_ You never asked,  _ Sylvain would reply. He shimmied his sweats down just a little, keeping his cock half-trapped, half-free. Felix’s eyes would go wide, and he’d lick his lips in excitement.

_ You’re so big.  _ His voice would be low, rough, like first thing in the morning before he got his coffee, only not cranky and mean.  _ Can I touch you? _

Sylvain nodded, and he slid his pants down to his knees, his cock smacking his stomach when it sprung free. Felix would like that. Sylvain liked it too, craved that slap of skin on skin. Would it sound different when it was Felix’s skin? He snaked a hand up his shirt to trace his own muscles. Felix would want to explore his body, would complain that Sylvain had taunted him with it for too long. That hand traveled higher, tugged at his nipples, one after the other. Felix wouldn’t be gentle, thought Sylvain as he twisted one between two fingers. Felix would bite, suck them dark and swollen until Sylvain begged him to touch his cock. 

Felix wouldn’t be able to resist, and neither could Sylvain. Without lube, he licked a wet, sloppy stripe across his palm— _ Disgusting, _ Felix would say—and grabbed his dick in earnest. 

Wait. Was he stroking himself or was Felix stroking him in this fantasy? Sylvain pumped himself while he thought, but the image he’d conjured was fading fast. Ugh, Sylvain was too visual for this. He reached for his phone, but his hand stalled.

Watching porn on the couch would be the last straw. Felix would disembowel him. 

But only if he found out. 

Sylvain whipped off his shirt and grabbed his phone. He glanced toward the hallway, half-expecting to find Felix glaring at him like a schoolmarm. Fuck, why was that image so hot? 

Almost at random, he picked an acrobatic 69 video because one of the guys looked sort of like Felix if Sylvain squinted. Oh yeah, this would work. Felix could probably stand on his head like this guy, too. He’d always been athletic. Sylvain added more spit and pumped harder as the other guy spread not-Felix’s asscheeks apart and pushed slick fingers inside. Even upside down, not-Felix’s licked and sucked at the other dude’s balls like he was born for it. Abruptly, they flipped to their sides and the camera zoomed in on not-Felix’s pink rim, stretched wide around three of the other guy’s fingers. Those fingers slipped out, the guy craned his neck, and Sylvain fucked his other hand faster.

“Eat his ass,” he murmured, just before it happened. How would Felix taste right out of the shower? His skin always smelled so good—it had to taste amazing. “Fuck, Felix…” Sylvain threw his head back and closed his eyes, thumbing his slit to smear his precome around. He would shove his tongue as deep into Felix as it would go, keep him on the edge for hours, until—

“I don’t do sex swings.”

Sylvain dropped his phone. He knew that voice better than his own. Felix, the real one, was right behind him. 

The video kept playing on the floor, and sure enough, the Felix analogue was giving some aerial head, but it wasn’t sexy anymore. 

Felix was going to kill him. One year as roommates, twenty as best friends—gone in the blink of an eye, all because Sylvain couldn’t jerk off in his room like a normal person.

“I’m sorry!” Sylvain scrambled to pull his pants back up but he could barely get his cock in. Maybe Felix hadn’t heard him. “I was super horny and you know how lazy I am, but I promise it’ll never, ever happen again!”

Felix didn’t respond. 

When Sylvain finally got brave enough to turn around, Felix was…

Felix was naked. Felix was hard. Felix was staring directly at Sylvain’s crotch. 

“You think I didn’t hear you calling my name?” muttered Felix. He crossed his arms, irate like he was the one who’d been interrupted. 

Then again, maybe he was.

“Sorry,” Sylvain said again. “I’ll leave. I’ll go away so you can jerk off in peace.”

“Idiot.” Insults flowed just as freely off Felix’s tongue when he was naked, and he shook his head. “Who do you think I was fantasizing about?” 

That glare was even more confusing. 

“Dimitri?” Sylvain offered weakly. 

Felix threw up his arms in disgust. “You, dumbass! I was imagining you, and I couldn’t finish because you were out here, presumably imagining me, and it’s just stupid that we’re not doing this  _ together  _ because we both obviously want to.”

The words left him in one huge burst, and somehow Sylvain felt as winded as Felix looked when the confession was over. 

It took a long time for Sylvain to collect himself. “You were thinking about me?”

Felix turned away. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Now that the shock was wearing off, details jumped out—Felix’s flushed cheeks, his tousled hair, his stiff, flushed cock, glistening because he’d been smart enough to go to his room and use lube… Sylvain forgot how to breathe. Slowly, he stood up and rounded the couch. Stopped in front of Felix. No video could compare to this, and no one but Felix would ever do it for Sylvain again. 

Felix inhaled, one sharp, little breath, and turned to look at Sylvain. His  _ I’m-walking-out-here-naked _ confidence had faded into sagging shoulders, but Sylvain knew how to bring it back. He held Felix’s face in both of his hands, gentler than any of his fantasies, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

No hesitation. Felix just melted into him, and Sylvain had never kissed anyone quite like this—naked inside and out, heart open and throbbing in Felix’s hands. Their lips moved in concert, Felix’s edges filling Sylvain’s grooves like the best friend necklaces they’d made when they were kids. When Felix finally touched him, his fingers left goosebumps up and down Sylvain’s arms. Tingles shot to his toes and his sweatpants pulled tight again. There was so much to say but they had time. After all, they already lived together. 

Sylvain wasn’t alone in his arousal; Felix’s body spoke for him, too, his cock insistent against Sylvain’s thigh. Too much fabric separated them, and Sylvain pulled his pants down without fanfare. 

It wasn’t nearly as sexy as in his fantasy. His cock didn’t make that satisfying smack against his skin, nor did it clash with Felix’s like dueling blades. 

Felix didn’t seem to care. His parted Sylvain’s legs with one of his own, lifting his knee high enough to brush Sylvain’s balls, then he stomped the sweatpants down to the ground. Sylvain stepped out of them and kicked them aside, never breaking the kiss. His hands had wandered down to Felix’s ass—now  _ that _ was exactly like his fantasy. His cheeks fit perfectly in Sylvain’s hands, and Sylvain pulled them apart, kneaded them, tried to memorize the feel of his bones, his tight muscles. 

A sigh escaped Felix’s lips and blew past Sylvain’s chin, then Felix was kissing his neck and rubbing his chest. Their cocks brushed, electric, but Sylvain had so many other places he wanted to touch first.

So did Felix. Rapt to the point of breaking the kiss, he stared at Sylvain’s chest, ran his palms over hard nipples, sucking in the air Sylvain breathed out. He didn’t pinch, didn’t bite—maybe that would come later—just ran his thumbs over them and kissed Sylvain’s sternum. 

Any remaining shreds of fantasy flew out of Sylvain’s mind. 

Cupping Felix’s face again, Sylvain tilted him up for another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. Felix abandoned his nipples for his waist, then his thighs, then his ass. In powerful strokes, he massaged Sylvain, like he was trying to get as much flesh in his hands as possible. 

Few words had passed them between them, just whispered names, sighs, and moans, mingling with the quiet obscenities still coming from Sylvain’s phone. But now, Sylvain had to speak.

“How do you want to—”

With only a look, Felix seized his gaze and his tongue. “Like your video,” he said, serious. “No swings unless it’s you in the straps.”

“Next time,” chuckled Sylvain. Together, they moved to the couch, but when Sylvain tried to ease Felix onto the cushions, Felix didn’t budge.

“Why do I have to be on the bottom?” Felix demanded. “I won’t be able to move my neck.”

“Well, neither will I!” But this argument was a waste of time. “On our sides then.” 

With a shudder, Sylvain remembered the video, wondering if Felix had seen his almost-doppelgänger get eaten out. They didn’t have to do that today, though, or ever if Felix wasn’t into it. Sylvain just wanted to make Felix feel good. 

“On our sides,” Felix repeated. 

It took some finagling—Sylvain had to prop one leg on the back of the couch and drape the other over the side, but he and Felix both fit, and then Sylvain had that gorgeous cock in his face. He shuddered when Felix’s breath kissed his dick, and in the hottest feedback loop Sylvain had ever witnessed, Felix’s cock pulsed out a shining bead of precome. 

Sylvain licked it off, and the dam burst. 

Come and lube made a bitter combination on Sylvain’s tongue, but he didn’t care because Felix’s dick was in his mouth and  _ fuck, _ Felix was blowing  _ him _ like he’d been planning it for years. How was Sylvain supposed to function when Felix was so  _ good _ at this? He swirled his tongue around Sylvain’s cock, suckled the tip, took him deeper,  _ deeper,  _ until cock struck throat and Sylvain jerked back. 

He had to step it up. Sucking his cheeks hollow, he bobbed up and down Felix’s length, slicking the way with as much spit as he could make. Felix faltered, moans sputtering out as he tried to keep his pace, and Sylvain took more. Not as much as he could have. He wanted to slip a finger in, wanted Felix to do the same to him, but he’d pushed enough boundaries tonight, and this was perfect. 

Somehow, they approached a rhythm, stroking and sucking, arms tangled with legs on a couch that couldn’t quite fit them—a bed next time—and then one hard suck had Sylvain spurting down Felix’s throat. 

It was never going to take much after the night they’d had, but Sylvain’s orgasm had slammed him out of nowhere. 

Felix was never going to let him live it down. But all Sylvain cared about was getting him off, and he pumped faster, pulling his mouth off to lap at Felix’s slit.

Hot come shot out, coating his lips and chin. “Sorry,” gasped Felix as his hips stuttered. 

“Don’t apologize,” Sylvain grunted, coaxing the rest of it out with tighter, slower strokes. He’d take a face full of Felix’s come any day—every day. Any way Felix would have him. 

“I…” But Felix seemed to lose his train of thought. Sylvain released his cock and for a moment, only their heavy breathing breached the silence. “That was better than my dreams.”

It wasn’t like Felix to be so sentimental, but Sylvain wasn’t about to turn it down. “You have no idea how long I wanted to—”

“Try me,” Felix muttered. “I’ve been waiting years.”

“Years?” Sylvain propped himself up to look at Felix. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “You look ridiculous.” 

“Don’t dodge the question,” said Sylvain, wiping a blob of come off with his hand. 

“I was waiting for you!” Felix pushed off of his legs and sat up. He reached for Sylvain, not to caress him but to fish some more semen out of his hair. Felix rolled it between his fingers in disgust. “You were always bringing some girl home, and then you stopped but you still didn’t want me—”

“I didn’t know you were interested!” Sylvain cried. “If I had, I would have kissed you ages ago! I’d have taken you out to dinner, coffee, the movies—the whole deal!” Hell, back in high school, he’d considered it after one too many wet dreams. That had been Sylvain’s first indication that he wasn’t straight. He’d filed it under misplaced attraction at the time, but those feelings went way back.

“Well fine, then!” Felix crossed his arms. “Take me on dates. Make up for lost time.”

The whiplash—those words in that tone—was too much. Sylvain’s brain wasn’t working, too full of Felix and  _ holy-shit-we-just-sixty-nined, _ but all of that sounded like  _ boyfriends. _ He dove in for a kiss to show his approval. 

“Sylvain!” Felix turned away at the last second. “Your face is disgusting!”

“Hey, watch it.” Feeling punch drunk, Sylvain leaned in again. “I’ll have you know this is my  _ boyfriend’s _ spooge on my face and I worked very hard to get it there.” 

“No one calls it that,” Felix grumbled, but he placed a tiny peck on Sylvain’s sticky lips. Sylvain was just happy that _spooge_ was the word he objected to. “Go clean up and I might kiss you some more.”

Coming from Felix, that was as good as a promise—one he made good on once they were tucked into Sylvain’s bed, still friends and roommates, but now lovers, too. 

And neither of them ever scoffed at sustainable farming again. 

**Author's Note:**

> ohhhh no here’s some more smut! trying my hand at an au just for fun. same theme, though. i’ll have to branch out more with these. 
> 
> story title comes from the song “he’s my best friend” by jellyfish, which is so freaking sylvix it hurts. highly recommend!! 
> 
> thanks for reading :)


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